


wind and water

by antheiabelle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A cat - Freeform, Bc Teen Wolf, Drowning, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda?, M/M, Near Death Experiences, a LIL gore but its not like explicit or anything, because apparently im incapable of writing romance without a cat, inconsistent tagging is my brand, someone nearly drowns in the first scene so be warned!!, take the implication of derek and stiles living in the same city as you wish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 03:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16441826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheiabelle/pseuds/antheiabelle
Summary: “How’re you doing there, dumbass of the century?” Liam bites, sounding tense, and worried, and angry.Hm. Theo catalogues that away for when he feels less like he’s breathing around razorblades embedded in his throat.He flops onto his back, getting a bleary look at Liam.“Fine,” he answers, then passes out.





	wind and water

Theo thinks he might deserve this. 

That doesn’t stop him from being afraid. He _hates_ water, has hated it since his parents took him to the beach and the salt stung the scrapes on his knees, hated it since he watched his red beach ball get caught in the waves and float away over the deep, dark nothing where monsters curled under the surface. 

His breaths come faster as the water rises to his ankles, fingers scrabbling at the door handle until it breaks off in his hands. It means nothing; the room is sealed by magic. There’s a cot in the corner, stripped of sheets, and Theo thinks about tearing into the metal, using it to break into the jagged stone walls. But he knows what will happen, knows that unless the witch who imprisoned him dies or undoes the spell, the room will provide no escape. 

The water is at his knees. 

He wades through it to the cot, collapsing on it heavily and hanging his head between his knees. His hands are shaking, _he_ is shaking. Like Tara did, years ago in the river. 

Because that’s the crux of this isn’t it? 

His hatred of water stems from his sister’s death—no. His sister’s murder. At his hands. 

Mason thinks he should see a therapist about it, a supernatural one. Theo’s not sure they exist, and despite the standing offer, Deaton creeps him out. 

Besides, he’s never talked about Tara. He doesn’t think he could. 

Salt bites at his skin, the water soaking through his shirt. He won’t get the chance. 

Standing on the cot is only putting off the inevitable, but Theo is a survivor, a cockroach. This may be his end, but he will put it off as long as he can. 

His cheeks are wet, and Theo blinks in confusion, looking down. Atop the cot, the water has risen only to his waist. 

_Oh_ , he realizes, raising a hand to his face. He’s crying. 

“I’m sorry,” he says into the briny air. He doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for, but he feels he should. “I’m sorry.” 

Water laps at his neck, a swell pushing him off his feet. He treads with what strength he can muster, heaving in breathes as he’s pushed closer to the ceiling. Cheek against metal, he laughs, a bitter, cracked thing. 

“See you soon, Tara.”

The world goes quiet, underwater, nothing but bubbly white noise. He can hold his breath longer than a human can, much longer, but it will give out soon enough. 

How fucking tragic that all he can think about in his dying moments, is Liam. 

Liam sitting beside him on the couch at some fuck-all hour of morning, grumpy and half-awake, but _there_ as Theo trembles in the aftermath of a nightmare. Liam shoving him sideways and knocking the controller out of his hands, effectively throwing him off Rainbow Road. Liam laughing in the light of the setting sun, fingers tapping rhythmically on the shingles of the roof. 

His chest _burns_. 

Theo claps a hand over his mouth, forcing his lips together as his lungs beg for air he cannot give. It’s a useless gesture. 

God, he fucking hates water. 

The inhale comes, and poisonous, brackish water fills his airways. He chokes and gasps, clawing and kicking as his body convulses, eyes stinging. He wishes it weren’t so painful, that he could just pass out and let nature take its course. 

But he’s Theo Raeken. There’s no ending fit for him that doesn’t involve pain. 

The deep blue-green blur, a deadly splash of color against his eyelids, is almost calming. The water bubbles, his eyes grow heavy, he stops fighting. A dull, muffled beat fills his ears, a last-ditch effort from his heart to keep him alive. Except–

Theo blinks. 

Except that’s not what a person’s heartbeat sounds like. He twists in his ocean prison, not knowing north from south but able to vaguely pinpoint the reverberation of a force on metal. There’s barely a second to wonder at the source when he’s thrust forwards, the weight of rushing water shoving him out a gap in the wall and onto cold cement. 

He can see nothing, nothing but a riotous blur, and then water is rising in his throat because air, _air_. Theo rolls onto his side, coughing up seawater for what feels like an eternity. He gasps like a fish, sucking in oxygen with a heady, hoarse laugh. 

Belatedly, he recognizes the sensation of a hand on his back, not moving, but there. 

_Liam._

“How’re you doing there, dumbass of the century?” Liam bites, sounding tense, and worried, and angry. 

Hm. Theo catalogues that away for when he feels less like he’s breathing around razorblades embedded in his throat. 

He flops onto his back, getting a bleary look at Liam. 

“Fine,” he answers, then passes out. 

-

Theo wakes to warmth. 

And threats of bodily harm. 

“I swear to god, if he _ever_ does that again I will kill him myself, I don’t care if–”

“Liam,” an unfamiliar voice says, “he’s awake.”

The door swings open and Theo recognizes the slight creak. He’s in his room at the Geyers’ house, tucked under the baby blue duvet Liam’s mother gifted him when he first moved in. 

He’s _safe._

Movement in his periphery draws his attention, and Theo looks up into the worried faces of Liam, Dr. Geyer, and a really jacked guy he’s never seen before in his life. 

Liam, for all that he sounded ready to commit murder mere seconds ago, moves with a gentleness as he sits at the edge of Theo’s bed and raises an eyebrow, silently asking, _‘Are you okay?’_

Theo opens his mouth to answer, and doesn’t manage anything other than a dry, cracked sound before Dr. Geyer is shushing him and the mysterious man is leaving the room, returning moments later with a glass of water. He certainly _smells_ familiar, Theo thinks as he accepts the glass with forcibly steady hands. Like cedar and wet earth, a scent that stuck faintly to a few of Liam’s clothes. And Scott’s, and Stiles’, and Lydia’s. 

He looks quizzically at the man over his water glass before his eyes widen in recognition. 

“I’m Derek Hale,” he says with a smile, confirming Theo’s suspicion. 

Theo knows of Derek, of what had happened to his family in the Hale fire and his subsequent joining of Scott’s pack. There’s a lot of blanks in the middle he’d never cared to fill. 

“Derek came down from D.C. to visit,” Liam explains. “Scott and Stiles were worried, but Scott’s caught up in classes at Davis and Stiles is doing his thing at the FBI, so…” he gestures at the elder werewolf, “Derek.”

“We knew you were dealing with a witch,” Derek says, “which is uncharted territory for most of the pack. Thought I’d lend a hand with the search, and got here just in time.”

Right. Drowning. 

“Speaking of,” Liam growls. “What the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

“I think we’d all like to know,” Dr. Geyer says, giving him a pointed look that Theo will not admit he shrinks under, “But he’s been through a lot and it’s only been a few hours. Let him rest, and interrogate him in the morning. I certainly plan to.”

A few hours, he said. That explains roughness of his throat. Derek offers a pleasant enough nod before heading out the door, and Dr. Geyer squeezes his shoulder before following suit. Theo looks down at himself, dry, and clean, and warm. His hair smells fruity, like Mrs. Geyer’s shampoo. 

“Who cleaned me up?” he asks, when it’s made apparent that Liam isn’t leaving. His voice grates his way up his throat, coming out gravelly and broken.

“Derek and my mom,” Liam says, frowning at him. “Don’t talk.”

Theo lifts an eyebrow. _Then what?_

“I don’t know,” Liam grouses. “Just—shut the fuck up and sleep.” 

He stands abruptly, walking towards the door and getting the lamp on his way. 

“Liam,” Theo croaks hesitantly. 

Liam turns, hand on the doorframe. 

“Thanks,” Theo forces out, the word like acid in his throat. It’s been a long time since he’s meant it. He bites his tongue, scowling. 

Liam sighs, shaking his head slightly. 

“You are _so_ not off the hook,” he promises, “You have no idea what you looked like when you passed out on me. But you’re welcome.”

-

Walking down the stairs the next morning is a chore, but Theo makes himself anyways. 

Pointless, when he trips halfway down and barely manages to catch himself on the railing. Liam appears at the foot of the stairs, eyes wide and concerned, glaring when he sees Theo leant over the banister.

“Fucking _menace_ ,” he swears under his breath, stomping up the steps and grabbing his arm. 

He doesn’t lead him down the stairs as much as steadies him, and small as the difference is, Theo appreciates it. 

“Is your mom gonna kill me?” Theo whispers at the bend before the kitchen, his voice a far cry from the mess it was the night before. 

Liam’s grin is positively wicked. 

“Theo Raeken,” Mrs. Geyer says the second his feet hit the cold kitchen tile. Her arms are crossed, and her grip tight on the wooden spoon in her hand. 

Theo cringes, lowering himself into a chair at the dining table and wondering what about parental figures these days makes him so weak. 

-

Theo really had thought through his decision before following through on it. 

Considering the fact that he’d slept less than six total hours that whole week, there was nothing to attest that it was a _good_ decision.

The witch that had decided on making Beacon Hills her creepy little playhouse or whatever had been plaguing the little town for weeks, leaving animal carcasses on lawns and burnt bones on doorsteps. The whole nine yards. 

Liam, adamant that they could keep things under control, had only broken the news to Scott a few hours before Theo made what was, admittedly, a very bad decision. 

Unable to stare any longer at the blank document that was supposed to be his analytical essay on a facet of Greek mythology, he’d told Mason he was heading downstairs for a glass of water, had looked out the little kitchen window to see pumpkin chunks and smiley faces drawn in blood all over the neighbor’s yard, and had frankly been fed the fuck up. 

Earlier on, they’d discovered that the witch had a cat, one that somehow acted as a focus point for her magic since, for a witch, she was still fairly young.

Now Theo has nothing against cats. Likes them, even. Thinks its fucking hilarious when they scratch people. 

He just, you know, had to kidnap one. And make their little witch friend think it was dead. 

Yeah, that didn’t go over so well. 

Long story short, he’d ended up knocked out in an Eichen House ward, with water spilling in from some unknown source and the door sealed off with magic. 

Which led to now, sitting in the Geyer family kitchen with three unimpressed stares directed his way. 

Pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, Mrs. Geyer lets out a long, controlled sigh. 

“That would explain the cat,” she says, and Theo blinks, turning to Liam for explanation. 

Liam nods at the living room couch, and when Theo focuses, he can hear the soft, somnolent breathing of a small animal. 

“It was sitting in the hall in Eichen House,” Liam says. “And it was here when we got back. Curled up on the couch and hissed at anyone who got close to it.”

Theo frowns. “It didn’t go back to her? The witch?”

Liam’s face turns somber. “It can’t. She’s dead.”

Theo stares, detecting no lie in Liam’s heartbeat. 

“What happened?” he asks. Annoyance or not, the witch hadn’t explicitly hurt any of the town’s residents. Theo had meant to subdue her, not kill her.

“Her spell backfired. When we caught up to her, she panicked and tried to cast something at us, but she was inexperienced. Derek says it was dark magic, and it ended up draining her life force.” 

“Oh,” Theo says in a strange, distant voice. Death is…different for him now. After hell. 

It’s not that he can’t kill, per se. He’d killed Schrader months ago in Eichen House after freeing Jiang and Tierney, well-deserved. He’d killed hunters after. But he doesn’t like the sick feeling that comes with being responsible, at least in part, for the death of someone who probably didn’t deserve it. It’s a new concern, but so are a lot of things. 

“Don’t do that, kiddo,” Dr. Geyer advises, speaking up for the first time since the night before. “That scenario could’ve gone a number of ways, but that girl had a last-ditch effort planned, and she probably would have used it regardless. Thinking about the ‘what-ifs’ will drive you nuts.”

As a trauma surgeon, he’s sure Dr. Geyer can speak. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Okay. I’m…sorry I worried you. I shouldn’t have run off alone.”

The tension flushes out of the room, and Mrs. Geyer smiles, coming around to ruffle his hair before setting about breakfast with her husband beside her, a testament to the things she’s seen over the past few months that she lets it go without comment. 

It’s weird, being cared about. 

He’s learning to appreciate it. 

Liam leans back in his seat, the front legs rising precariously off the floor, and stretches. He looks exhausted, despite getting a full night’s sleep. The week was still taking its toll on them. 

“C’mon,” he says, the chair wobbling back into place. “Let’s go deal with your cat before pancakes.”

“ _My_ cat?” Theo says. “What the hell makes you think it’s mine?”

Liam nods at the living room, and Theo stands to follow him with a challenging scowl. 

The cat, a little gray tabby, perks instantly, reacting to their presence in a way few cats Theo has ever seen do. Liam reaches out and gets about two inches from the cat’s face before she hisses and swats at him. 

Expecting it, Liam draws his hand back lightning fast. 

Crossing his arms he looks at Theo. “You try.”

He extends his hand carefully, watching the small feline for any indication of attack, and gets nothing. It bumps its snout very gently against his fingers, the epitome of docile, and Liam shouts victoriously. 

“I _told_ you,” he grins, watching the cat purr as Theo scratches the backs of its ears and gives him a dirty look. “Your cat.”

“What am I supposed to do with a cat?” Theo huffs. “I can barely take care of myself, Liam, how am I meant to be responsible for the life of a whole other living creature?” 

Liam shrugs. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Theo punches him. The cat meows happily at Liam’s yelp, licking innocently at her paw as Theo laughs and Liam glares. 

“She _hates_ you,” Theo says gleefully. “I’m keeping her.”

“How do you even know its a girl?” Liam mutters darkly, rubbing at his arm. 

“I just do.”

“You’re _guessing_.”

Theo lifts the cat off the couch, holding her up so they can check. He turns a smug look on Liam when she does, in fact, turn out to be a girl. 

“I _just do_.”

Liam mumbles something his mother would bury him alive for, baring his fangs at Theo. 

“Kids!” Mrs. Geyer calls. “Pancakes!”

Theo lets the cat curl up in his arms, pillowed against his chest, and trails Liam to the kitchen. 

“Oh, she’s precious _now_ , isn’t she?” Mrs. Geyer quips wryly. “What are you thinking of naming her, sweetheart?”

Theo pauses mid-chew, racking his memory for anything significant enough to name her after. He remembers the creepy doll in the attic Liam and Mason are terrified of, swearing up and down that it moves when they’re not looking. 

He grins, holding her up in a Simba-like fashion. “Lucy.” 

Liam curses loudly and throws a sausage at his head. 

-

“What’d you end up writing about?” Mason asks, referring to the essay Theo had abandoned in favor of more dangerous pursuits. 

It occurs to him that Liam hasn’t talked to him about it yet, not properly, and he hums. 

“The Chimera,” he answers. “Added a personal-insight paragraph.”

“You’re not serious,” Mason gapes, and Theo hands the paper in question over, letting him flip through it. 

“I hate that it’s so well-written,” Mason says bitterly. “That’s just outrageous, man.” 

He hands it back and leans against the wall as Theo shuts his locker with a slam, clicking the lock into place and turning in the direction of their AP Literature classroom. 

His silence feels heavy, thoughtful.

“What?” Theo snaps finally, pausing at a corner. 

Mason shakes his head. “Why’d you go after her?” he asks quietly. 

“I was just—I was fed up, okay?” Theo says, running a hand through his hair. “We weren’t sleeping ‘cause we spent all day chasing her and all night with our heads in magic books or doing homework. Liam looked about ready to collapse—”

He stopped, sensing a shift in Mason’s interest. 

“Liam looked about ready to collapse?”

“Everyone did,” he amends. “We were all tired.” 

“Sure,” Mason allows. “But you didn’t say everyone. You said Liam.”

Theo doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. He turns the corner and continues towards class, ignoring the smugness radiating from Mason in waves. 

As they enter, Mason grabs his wrist. 

“He was worried out of his mind, you know?” he says quietly. “She told us you were dead, and he almost lost it. Derek had to calm him down, tell him to listen to her heart. Tell she was lying.” 

Theo blinks, feeling very deer in the headlights. No one had told him _that_. 

He yanks free of Mason and makes a beeline for his seat. 

He doesn’t hear a word his teachers say for the rest of the day. 

-

“Uh, hi?”

Derek smiles, eyebrows raised where he leans against a sleek, black sedan. 

“Hey. Liam asked me to drop you off at home.”

Right. Liam and Corey had lacrosse, Mason had a club meeting, and Theo wasn’t allowed to drive his truck until Deaton gave him the all clear. 

He wants to turn him down, walk back to the house by himself, but something tells him he isn’t really being given a choice. He walks around the car, noting the expensive and near-pristine appearance, and gets in the passenger side. 

Derek starts the car and pulls out of the loop, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel when the after-school traffic inevitably clogs the streets. 

“Did you steal this?” Theo asks abruptly. 

The car smells unfamiliar, nothing like any of the flora around Beacon Hills. 

Derek grins. “Yep. From a bunch of hunters in Brazil. Stiles picked up on it too.”

Theo comes to the sudden and startling realization that if Derek is close enough to Stiles for Stiles to notice such a thing, and if Derek lives in D.C., where Stiles also lives…

Then Derek absolutely knows who is sitting in his passenger seat. 

He looks out the window. This is _not_ the way home. He voices this to Derek.

“I know,” Derek says. “I am taking you home, just thought we’d make a stop first.”

Theo takes him in: tall, muscular, _bearded_. The chimera doesn’t really stand a chance. 

“Are you going to kill me?” he asks. 

Derek _laughs_ , like its _funny_ , and he _isn’t_ a terrifying hulk of a man who’s well aware of Theo’s past with his pack.

“No? I wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of saving you if I planned to kill you later.” 

“You could’ve made it more painful,” Theo points out, like some kind of idiot. “Burned me alive or something.”

He realizes his mistake a second too late. Derek doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t look angry either. 

“Neither fire nor water are good ways to die,” he says quietly. Theo stays silent for the remainder of the ride. 

They end up at the Preserve, the wide expanse of trees and earth tempting. 

“Run?” Derek asks, and takes off without waiting for an answer. 

Halfway up the crest of a small hill, he full-shifts into a large black wolf, turning to wait for Theo with sharp, blue eyes. Missteps forgotten, Theo grins, feeling his bones shift and crack as he follows suit, shifting and padding up to the larger wolf. It’s been too long. 

They spend an hour racing through the forest, leaping over streams and under twisting boughs. Theo’s never felt so free. 

-

He shows up on the Geyers’ doorstep two hours later, covered in dirt with leaves caught in his hair. 

“What did I expect?” Mrs. Geyer says, a mix of fond and exasperated. 

She waves at Derek over his shoulder, the werewolf leant up against his car again in a very similar state of uncleanliness to Theo. He grins and bids her goodbye. 

“Say bye to the others for me,” he calls up the driveway. “I’ve got a flight back to D.C. in,” he checks his watch, “three hours. Gotta get the car checked in before that.”

Mrs. Geyer promises to do as asked and sees him off while Theo wonders at the implications of Derek spending his last few hours here on a run with him instead of the members of his pack. 

Derek could be a supernatural therapist, he thinks. His head is clearer than its been in weeks. 

Lucy comes out to investigate the commotion, winding between his legs, and Theo stares down at her. 

_I have a cat_ , he thinks. _I’m eighteen years old, I’ve killed more people than I have fingers, and I have a cat._

Theo, in what is becoming a frightening habit, passes out. 

-

There are no threats when he comes to this time, just worried whispers. 

“Theo?” Mrs. Geyer’s face floats into his vision. “Hey, honey. How do you feel?” 

There’s someone by her side, someone that pulls Theo into a sitting position and lets him lean slightly against them. Liam. 

Theo looks down at his hands, fingers knotted together. He’s shaking again. 

“Theo,” Liam prompts, a warm line of contact down his side. “What's going on? Why'd you pass out?” 

Theo says, “I killed my sister. I was nine years old, and I killed my sister.” 

Liam goes rigid against him and Mrs. Geyer’s eyebrows furrow. They both know this, Liam from Lydia’s vision and his mother from Liam, but Theo has never brought it up in the six months he’s stayed with them. 

Slowly, Liam reaches over and wrenches his hands apart, curling his fingers loosely around his wrist. Theo watches the cuts where his nails had bitten too deep into his palm heal over. Mrs. Geyer sits down on his other side, wrapping his other hand up in hers. He’s still fucking shaking. 

“What happened?” Liam asks, gentle and firm all at once. 

Million dollar question. Theo takes an unsteady breath. 

“My parents were—I don’t really remember them.” He shakes his head sharply, able to conjure nothing but blurry images and memories of trips to the ocean he hated so much. “I think we were happy. I think we were normal, but they—all I know is they somehow got into some business with some shady people, and one day these three guys in masks show up at the door and tell me my sister wants to give me her heart.” 

Liam’s hand tightens on his wrist. 

“It’s—they sat me down on one of the couches, and told me how it would happen. It freaked me the fuck out. I asked them why she’d ever want that, and they promised me she did. They _swore_ —” 

He chokes on the words, because they swore, but he believed them. Mrs. Geyer slides an arm over his shoulders, holding him into her side. Theo can’t imagine why, why she doesn’t hate him, why she’s not pushing him _away_ —

“They said I couldn’t talk about it,” he breathes, and Liam is leaning closer too now, concerned. “And Tara was—she was fine, she acted like everything was normal so I thought it was.”

His sister’s smiling face swims in his memory, juxtaposed with the gaunt, pale woman he’d met underground.

“I watched,” he whispers flatly. “I just stood there and watched.” 

Theo’s life is a series of before and afters. Before Tara, After Tara. Before Scott, After Scott. Before hell, After hell. 

Before Liam, After Liam. 

“Okay,” the werewolf in question says. His voice quakes slightly, but he says nothing else, and Theo can’t smell fear, or disgust, or hate. All he can smell is sadness. “Okay, Theo.” 

-

Something changes.

Theo doesn’t know what, exactly, but its like a weight has been lifted free of his chest. Things are just _easier._

He and Mason go to lacrosse games (Mason cheers, Theo throws things at both teams because it’s hilarious to watch them angrily search the crowd like confused seals). He helps Liam struggle through homework at the dining table. He plays with Lucy and gives her Liam’s clothes to destroy when she’s restless. He goes out for weekly dinners with the Geyers at the diner two blocks down. He falls asleep in Liam’s bed when they’re playing video games or just talking, and he wakes up the next day with a sleepy teenage werewolf’s legs over his ribs.

It’s a _life._

He knows better than to waste second chances. 

-

Corey says, “Liam’s missing.”

Theo’s heart _stops._

“What do you mean _missing_?” he hisses into his phone. Lucy jumps where she’s napping, head on his thigh, and hops off the couch. 

“As in he never showed up to lacrosse practice, he’s not with Mason, and judging by your tone of voice, he’s not with you.”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Theo says, and hangs up. 

In the next forty-five minutes, Scott has been called, the Sheriff puts out an ATL and has all his deputies hit the road, and Theo, Corey, and Mason are inching their way through the Preserve. Theo is tracking Liam’s scent, faint as it is, while Mason holds his bat up and Corey moves between them, prepared to make them invisible at any given moment. 

“You stole my cat.”

Theo looks up. Balancing precariously on a branch, legs crossed and hair rippling in the wind, is the witch. 

The one that is supposed to be _dead_. 

“You stole my cat,” she repeats. “So I stole your boyfriend.”

There is a number of things Theo wants to say to that: 1. Liam is _not_ his boyfriend 2. _No_ , Mason he is _absolutely_ not blushing 3. Her cat stayed with him of her own will 4. _No, Mason he is not fucking blushing._

Mason still looks self-satisfied. Theo thinks there’s a lot more to worry about in the moment. 

“Look,” he snarls up at the witch. “I don’t know how the hell you’re alive, but you need to give Liam back if you wanna stay that way.”

She sneers. 

With a pop, she vanishes from the branch, and reappears fifty feet away. 

“Come and get him,” she sing-songs.

-

The more time they spend frolicking through the woods on the witch’s trail, the more anxious Theo gets. He hasn’t heard word or whisper of Liam since this whole shenanigan started, and he’s starting to wonder if the werewolf is even _in_ the Preserve. It certainly feels as though they’ve traversed every square centimeter to be found.

And then it occurs to Theo that they are dealing with _magic_ , and _magic_ means _illusions_. The fourth time they pass by what Theo swears is the same tree, he walks straight into it and through it. On the other side, waits an amalgam of creatures created from the earth around them, golems of every shape and size. Theo’s canines extend into fangs, fingers into claws, and his eyes glow an inhuman gold as he rips into them with a snarl. Behind him, Corey and Mason join the fray. 

It takes little time to locate Liam when the golems are nothing but dirt piles, tucked away in a grove of trees in a circle of mountain ash. He’s fine, excepting the gash on his head where the witch knocked him out, but Theo worries anyway. 

“What the fuck, Liam,” he swears, scowling. “How didn’t you hear her coming up on you?”

“And now _you_ know what it feels like,” Liam fires back, dusting his jeans off and letting Mason pull him into a hug. 

Theo blinks at him, confused, and remember Mason’s words from a week ago, about Liam before he had found the room in Eichen House. 

_Oh_ , he thinks, _oh._

Corey muffles a laugh into his hand. 

-

The reason for the witch’s lack of interference becomes apparent when they leave the preserve. The flashing lights of the Sheriff’s car silhouette Scott in red and blue where he stands over the witch’s prone form. It looks like he knocked her out, her wrists bound in soaked rope that smells smoky and wintergreen at once. 

“Liam,” Scott breathes in relief, wrapping his beta into a hug. 

“Hey,” Liam says in surprise, muffled into his shoulder. 

The accusing ‘I can’t believe you called Scott’ look he throws the three of them over his shoulder is met with defiant stares. 

“You better believe it,” Scott says, despite there being no way for him to have seen. 

Liam rolls his eyes, disentangling himself as the Sheriff joins the scene. 

He nudges Theo’s shoulder when they end up next to one another, looking up at him. 

_Alright?_ the gesture asks. 

Theo glares. _Are_ you?

Liam smirks and throws his response back in his face, “Fine.”

-

They’re covered in dirt and sweat from head to toe.

Blood too. There’s definitely blood in the mix. 

Theo slumps against a tree trunk, sliding down to the ground and ignoring the scratch of the bark as it catches on his clothes. He exhales heavily, exhausted. 

There were consequences that came with accidentally rousing a dormant beast that looked like it could be one of Godzilla’s litter, and those consequences were that they had to _fight it_. Theo’s mouth tastes like monster blood and wet leaves. He scrunches his nose up at the memory. 

Liam laughs, dropping down next to him and letting the chimera slump against his shoulder. 

“Just a casual evening in Beacon Hills,” Liam narrates to the trees. 

Theo snorts, muffling a bout of laughter into Liam’s filthy shirt, and Liam joins in until they’re both lying there, laughing their asses off at the absolute unpredictable messes their lives have become. 

“We’re hysterical,” Theo gasps between laughs, sides aching. “Should be cause for concern.”

“Who cares,” Liam chuckles, “You’re smiling.”

Theo freezes, then lifts his head, meeting Liam’s gaze. 

“What?”

Liam just stares back at him, eyes wide and blue, so blue. Theo can barely make out the flecks of gold and green amidst all the blue. He’s drowning all over again, but this time he doesn’t struggle. 

This time, the water is kind.

Liam’s breath hits his mouth and Theo’s eyes flutter closed. When he kisses him, a hand on Theo’s jaw to keep him still, he tastes exactly like Theo does. Like bitter blood and forest floor, and underneath it, Liam. 

It’s disgustingly perfect. Theo’s heart jackrabbits in his chest, and he tilts forward when Liam pulls back to catch his breath, following on instinct. Liam grins, and meets him halfway, mouth hot and lips cracked and so fucking Liam Theo thinks he might die on the spot. 

He doesn’t. Corey interrupts them before they can get too far. He laughs, transforming it into a cough halfway and giving up when they both throw unimpressed looks his way. The other chimera shrugs and smiles. 

“Nolan owes me fifty bucks.”

Liam’s head thunks back against the tree and Theo looks up at him as he flips Corey off and they quip back and forth at one another. 

_This isn’t drowning,_ he thinks, _this is flying._

-

Theo has always liked the wind. 

It blows the trees around outside now, bending the boughs with its force and scattering lawn chairs and umbrellas. Theo sits at the island, swinging his legs as he watches, Lucy in his lap and a hot mug of coffee in his hands. 

Liam wanders into the kitchen, stealing an apple slice off the plate in front of him and ruffling Lucy’s fur. She’s slowly accommodating to the other members of the household, but she still tries to bite Liam’s fingers off. Theo scratches behind her ears, pleased. 

Liam rolls his eyes, setting a gentle hand on Theo’s neck to draw him in for a kiss. 

He tastes like the wind, and warmth, and home.

**Author's Note:**

> do i even like this?? i don't know. emotional catharsis at 5 am in the morning. thanks for reading!!
> 
> tumblr: @litttlewings come talk to me im lonely


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